


For Evermore Be Thy Name Adored

by severinne



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Boot Worship, Christmas, Hotel Sex, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-24
Updated: 2008-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severinne/pseuds/severinne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Gene celebrate their own first Christmas together. In a hotel room. With a Santa hat and thigh-high leather boots. It <em>is</em> Christmas, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Evermore Be Thy Name Adored

**Author's Note:**

  * For [candesgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candesgirl/gifts).



Gene padded barefoot past the king-size bed, stubbed out his cigarette in the smoking stand between the two armchairs in the corner, and cast a derisive eye around the lavish suite before pouring another drink. Night was darkening the windows behind their velvet drapes, and Gene had already spent too much time in this room: time enough to have a shower, have a drink, and tentatively put some of his clothes back on – and in his nervousness, a hasty splash of aftershave – while he had waited for Sam to arrive some respectable time afterwards.

The hotel room was Gene’s Christmas gift to Sam. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t nearly enough. One night’s posh respite from his damp little bedsit was not nearly good enough for Sam, who was still in the en-suite bath, supposedly preparing Gene’s gift, whatever that was meant to be. Gene stared at the alarm clock, the bathroom door, and heaved a sigh. ‘Oy, Gladys!’

‘What?’ Sam’s shout wasn’t any less irate for being muffled by the door.

‘What the bloody hell you doin’ in there?’

‘Getting your gift ready, so piss off!’

Gene rolled his eyes, drained his scotch, and turned away to pour another. ‘I think I’d like my gift a lot better if it were on the bed and _not_ in the loo,’ he grumbled, taking care to pitch his voice loud enough for Sam to hear.

The bathroom door creaked open. ‘Finally,’ Gene sighed, and turned around, his eyebrows promptly flying upward as Sam slipped out, wrapped in a full-length red velveteen cloak trimmed with white fur. The whole thing was topped with an unmistakable Santa hat, in case Gene had missed the subtlety of the Father Christmas get-up.

Gene smirked ironically. ‘Very nice,’ he drawled indulgently. ‘Lemme guess, this is the bit where you tell me I’ve been a naughty boy this year, right?’

An indignant grimace twisted Sam’s mouth. ‘Oh, shut up.’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘D’you want your present or not?’ Spots of colour rose in Sam’s cheeks, not quite as red as his cloak. His biting impatience aside, Gene could see the trepidation shuttering Sam’s eyes, and promptly stifled his amusement.

‘Course I do,’ he said, setting his drink aside. ‘No need to be tetchy about it, you’re just…so…’ Gene waved a wordless hand over the ridiculous costume, choking back another bark of laughter.

Eyes narrowing, Sam straightened defiantly against the careless gesture, jaw tilting upright with that typical proud toss of his head. ‘I’m so what, Gene?’ He unfastened the cloak and let it go with a single shrug.

The heft of cloth hit the floor at the same time as Gene’s jaw.

Beneath the festive cloak, Sam was utterly naked. Except for the boots. Heavy-heeled, black leather, skimming over his calves and up, _up_ to his thighs. Oh god. His thighs, so long and pale and looking deliciously obscene above that broad fold of dark leather over the knee…

Gene shook, hard, and clutched the table at his hip to keep upright. Those boots somehow made Sam’s nudity explicit, pornographic. His eyes roved helplessly over the rest of Sam’s body, toned thighs dragging his gaze upward and everywhere. Even the Santa hat was making him hard now. ‘Uhh…’ Gene licked his lips, eyes dropping back to the boots. ‘Uh, er, where…’

‘Shop in Soho,’ Sam offered, anticipating the question. ‘Got ‘em last month when you sent me down to London on that conference you couldn’t be bothered with.’

‘Oh.’ Gene studied the boots intently, watching them approach with slow, resounding steps. They looked like something from the bloody English Civil War.

‘My face is up here.’

Gene grunted agreeably. He wondered if those boots would feel as wonderful under his hands as Sam’s jacket always did.

‘But if you won’t look up…’ The leather of his boots shifted – so soft, so _pliant_ \- as Sam dropped smoothly to his knees. ‘Think I prefer the view from here myself, anyway,’ he whispered, breathing hot over the bulge in Gene’s trousers. Sam’s hands tugged at the button and zip with brisk, calculated motions that faltered when Sam glimpsed what was – and wasn’t – underneath.

‘No pants, eh?’ Dark eyes flicked teasingly upward. ‘Someone _has_ been naughty…’ With a piercing grin, Sam yanked Gene’s trousers down to his ankles and craned his head forward, dragging the flat of his tongue up the full length of Gene’s exposed cock.

Gene cursed breathlessly, both hands clenching tighter to the table, struggling to stay upright and to _not_ grab at Sam’s bobbing head, Santa hat and all. That ridiculous white pom-pom bounced over Sam’s bare shoulder, dancing to the enthusiastic pace Sam had set working over his cock with rapid little flicks of his tongue over the head, the steady pumping of his hand at the base.

Shuddering hard, Gene reached unsteadily down, kneading at Sam’s shoulders. He closed his eyes, let his hands drink in the smooth heat of Sam’s skin, then firmly pushed Sam back, pulled him to his feet.

‘Gene…?’ Sam blinked confusedly at him. His lips were reddened and slick from his exertions, and Gene irresistibly leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss, hands drifting from his shoulders to claim all his exposed body from the nape of his neck to the tops of those boots. Sam softened in his arms, returning the kiss and working his hands inside Gene’s open shirt, making Gene sigh from somewhere deep and rasping inside his constricted chest, losing himself in the familiarity of Sam’s body against his own before gradually pulling away and snatching the Santa hat from Sam’s head.

‘Oy, what’re you doing?’ Sam made a half-hearted swipe for the hat, not fast enough to prevent Gene from tugging it onto his own head.

‘You’re meant to be my present, right?’ His words came out hoarse, tight.

Sam nodded mutely, eyes roving greedily over Gene’s body as he stripped away his shirt, already hanging askew from Sam’s attentions, and kicked his trousers away.

‘Good.’ Gene lunged, slung his arms around Sam’s waist and hoisted him off his feet to carry him the short distance to one of the suite’s two deep armchairs. He dropped Sam into the velvet and walnut monstrosity and leaned down with hands braced on the arms to either side of Sam’s sprawling body. ‘That means you’re mine to use however I see fit,’ he rasped into Sam’s ear. He dropped his head into Sam’s neck, kissing and biting his way down to his collarbone and lower.

Sam purred and arched beneath his mouth, pawing and clutching over Gene’s broad shoulders, urging him downward and groaning needfully when Gene paused to linger over each nipple on his way down. Smirking gently into his chest, Gene eased himself down to his knees between Sam’s legs, breath hitching at the brush of the leather boots against his skin. Instinctively, his hands dropped down to stroke Sam’s calves through the supple leather, rubbing and squeezing addictively and staring up at Sam, at his gorgeous gift, suffocated by desire.

Gene grasped at Sam’s right ankle and coaxed his leg up to bend and rest with the heel of his boot at the chair’s edge, opened him wider with a nudge at his other leg. The scent of leather was so close now that he was deeply, dangerously tempted to just turn his head and caress Sam’s raised boot with his tongue. Instead, he opened his eyes, studying the arrangement of Sam’s body in the chair.

‘Raise your arms,’ he commanded, softly. ‘Up behind your head.’

Sam obeyed, lips parted on a shaky exhale, narrowed eyes gleaming and hot. The subtle muscles of his chest and stomach shifted beneath his skin with the stretch of his arms draping over the back of the chair, and Gene released a soft moan at the sight. Now, his Sam was perfect.

He took his time, nuzzling nose and cheek against the soft inner heat of each thigh, inhaling Sam’s scent in slow, teasing measures before mouthing gently over his heavy balls and up the flushed, engorged length of his cock. His tongue laved briefly over the crown, tasting Sam’s arousal already beading there, and Gene felt his own cock twitch and throb between his legs at Sam’s barely restrained panting.

‘I want to hear you, y’know.’ Gene breathed the words over Sam’s sensitive flesh. ‘It’s alright, it’s safe enough here… c’mon, Sammy, let it go…’

A faint moan slipped past Sam’s lips, nowhere near as powerful as the trembling coursing through his thighs. Gene soothed him with steady strokes of his large hands up and down Sam’s legs, groaning again at the fleeting reminder of leather before pressing inward to stroke Sam with both hands.

‘Louder.’

‘Oh, god, _Gene_ …’ Sam’s head thrashed to the side. ‘Please…’

Gene rewarded him with two fingertips pressed back behind his balls, massaging into his perineum and eliciting a harsh sob of arousal from Sam. ‘Better,’ he murmured. ‘But mark my words, I’m gonna make you _scream_ before I’m done with you.’

With no further warning, Gene bowed his head and swallowed Sam as deeply as he could, sucking mercilessly hard and making Sam cry out deliciously loud in response. That raw, unrestrained sound drove Gene on, made him redouble his efforts to take Sam deeper, to work his hand faster over his tightening balls, anything to keep Sam moaning above him like a two-bit prossie. In the back of his mind, he recalled that trick Sam had of humming around Gene’s dick, the way the vibrations thrummed right into his bloodstream.

He only managed the first couple bars of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ before Sam did just that, exploding hot over his tongue with a sudden snap of his hips and a deep, guttural groan that nearly sent Gene following him right after. Steeling himself, Gene focused on the aftershocks of Sam’s orgasm, suckling away his last hard spasms and catching him when his leg dropped weakly from the edge of the chair, upsetting his balance.

‘Easy there, Sammy-boy…’ Gene pulled Sam down from his unsteady perch, gratefully gathering bare flesh and leather into his lap. Sam’s breath gusted hot over his neck, the sweat of his brow slicking over his shoulder.

‘Bloody hell, Gene…’

‘Alright?’

‘Fucking brilliant…’ A shiver passed up Gene’s spine at the brush of Sam’s lips against his ear, forcing him to close his eyes again to steady himself. Sam was nuzzling impossibly deeper into the crook of his neck, his body shifting restlessly in his lap and brushing all too often, not often enough, over Gene’s fierce erection.

‘Don’t get too comfy there.’ Gene muttered the warning in spite of his hands rubbing slowly up and down Sam’s back. ‘I’m nowhere near done playing with my Christmas toy yet…’

Sam sucked in a sharp, aroused breath. ‘And what’re you gonna do with me now, sir?’ His voice and manner slipped into the game as easily as Gene might slip into a hot bath at the end of the day, Sam’s hands and mouth promptly falling into worship of all the bare skin accessible to his touch. Gene’s eyes flew open, and landed squarely on Sam’s discarded Father Christmas costume.

‘I might have an idea or two.’ Gripping Sam tight in his arms, Gene rolled them together, prone to the floor, pinning the other man beneath him with a bracing hand to his chest and a penetrating kiss, but his other hand came up far short of his target.

‘Damn.’ Huffing impatiently, Gene rose up on his knees, eyes tracking desperately between the bed, the red cloak and Sam’s naked body sprawled beneath him. ‘Don’t move,’ he decided, climbing to his feet, ‘and keep looking gorgeous.’

‘Whatever you say, sir,’ Sam smirked after him, tracking Gene’s steps across the suite with sharply gleaming eyes that threatened to draw Gene backward again. Resolutely, he looked away long enough to pluck the abandoned cloak from the floor and examine the cloth with his hands, releasing an anticipatory sigh.

‘Y’know, you’re very keen now for someone who was laughing at that get-up not that long ago.’

Gene glanced over his shoulder, biting his lip at the sight of Sam waiting, reclined on the floor with one booted knee bent and a skeptical haughtiness raising his eyebrows. Even after everything they had now, it would be a cold day in hell before Gene would dare admit what that particular smug look did to him.

‘I mean, first you nick my hat, and now that? Whatever are you…’

‘I’m not wearing it, you daft git.’ Gene briskly turned the broad cloak inside out, revealing a snowy-white fur lining that he draped across the bed before turning fully to face Sam down. ‘But I am gonna fuck you right through it.’

Even from a distance, the slow bobbing motion of Sam’s throat was unmistakable. His mouth worked wordlessly, eyes flickering between Gene’s determined face and the open stretch of fur covering the bed. Gene allowed, even relished the expanding silence of Sam’s lust-struck paralysis, watching his tongue dart out to moisten his slack lips before need got the better of him.

‘And here I thought I had an obedient little toy on my hands,’ he growled, stalking around the bed to the side table to retrieve the jar he had placed there in readiness. ‘Get over here. _Now._ ’

The hoarse command was all the catalyst needed for the narrow world of their hotel room to accelerate, from Sam on the floor to Sam on the bed, pale skin dusked to gold by the blinding white of fur beneath his back, arching and gasping and opening around Gene’s fingers inside him. His legs lifted and bent to Gene’s pleasure, hoisted over his shoulder and the crook of his left elbow and suddenly that whiff of leather was cutting through the rising scent of sweat and sex enveloping them both. Groaning desperately, Gene rubbed his face into the boot slung over his shoulder, breathing scent and texture through his skin.

Below him, Sam released a choked-off whimper. ‘Guess you like the boots,’ he rasped breathlessly, his hand skimming down his own body to leisurely stroke over his cock, gradually growing hard again.

‘Oh, yeah…’ Too far gone for shame, Gene parted his lips against Sam’s calf and dragged his tongue over the leather.

‘ _Fuck._ ’ Sam’s eyes widened, pupils blown, his hand working faster over himself. ‘Oh, god… just look at you…’

Gene laved a wet trail from just below Sam’s knee to his ankle, gripping his foot tight as he withdrew the fingers of his other hand from inside Sam. ‘Got my eyes on something else entirely,’ he breathed, tugging harder at Sam’s legs. ‘Get those luscious legs around me pronto, Sammy.’ Gene sank deeper between Sam’s thighs, nudging the weeping head of his cock against his slicked entrance. ‘Want to feel those boots the whole time I’m inside you…’

Sam’s bare thighs clung to his sides, leather boots folding around his hips, holding Gene tight and making his blood race with anticipation, pounding fierce through his engorged dick. ‘Oh, fuck, yeah, just like that…’ Gene muttered into Sam’s sweat-drenched skin, pressing his brow into the hollow beneath Sam’s shoulder as he struggled to compose himself, needing to control the pace at which he took Sam. He didn’t want to hurt his beautiful, generous boy. ‘You’re so fucking gorgeous, you in those boots…’ Gene spoke in a rapid hush, every nerve throbbing with need. ‘Feels so good, so fucking _hot_ , can’t wait to feel those heels digging into me when I fuck you…’

A harsh growl broke Sam’s throat, and Gene never got the chance to recover as Sam’s legs clenched hard around him and forced him inside with a single thrust. Gene shouted incoherently at the sudden tight heat around his cock, shaking uncontrollably in Sam’s arms as they rose to wrap around his shoulders, holding firm enough to immobilize him while Sam writhed beneath his body, over the fur lining of the cloak.

For a long, languid moment they held and moved like that, Sam’s arms and legs driving Gene’s body into his own even as Sam himself surged powerfully below, tilting his hips to the angle of Gene’s length inside him. Gene’s hands twitched anxiously over skin he could only see by touch, seeking purchase and finally working his hands between flesh and fur to clasp his large hands over Sam’s shoulders.

Using the leverage gained over Sam’s restless body, Gene slammed his hips forward with a feral growl. The force of his thrust wrested a sharp, desirous cry from Sam’s lips so he did it again, harder, and again, and stopping was impossible now, not with Sam moaning and moving under and around him. Gene held and fucked Sam every bit as hard as Sam held him in return, fingers bruising into his spine and boot heels gouging at the small of his back until Gene roared his release into Sam’s bared throat, teeth snarling the flesh as though to claim him.

Gradually, shakily, Sam let him go, arms and legs dropping back down to the bed and allowing Gene to ease upright enough to scrutinize his neck – he could taste blood on his tongue, and sure enough a visible bite mark was blossoming over his otherwise smooth skin. Apologetically, he bowed his head, soothing the imperfection with the tip of his tongue.

‘Bloody Neanderthal…’ Sam murmured, but he craned his head back, exposing more of his long throat to Gene’s mouth.

‘You love it.’

‘Yeah, I do.’ Fingers combed through Gene’s hair, urging him to look up into Sam’s quiet, solemn face. Words sparked to flame in his mind and promptly died on his tongue, but Sam’s warm smile back said enough.

With a satisfied nod, Gene turned his face back into Sam’s body, chasing quiet tremors down bare flesh and glancing an adoring hand over Sam’s cock, now fully erect again.

His touch made Sam gasp. ‘Christ, do you ever stop?’

‘Nope.’ Gene nestled himself down into the fur cloak exposed between Sam’s boot-clad legs, and adjusted his Santa hat. ‘Longest night of the year, Sammy-boy, and I don’t intend to waste a second of it.’

One night in a hotel room wasn’t enough for Sam, but it was a start.


End file.
